It was a quiet evening and Mr. and Mrs. Dragon were sitting down to a nice meal in their cave. Mrs. Dragon had gone to town that day and murdered two innocent villagers for dinner. She then stopped by the farmer’s market to pick up a jar of pesto and some sun-dried tomatoes.

As Mr. and Mrs. Dragon sat across from one another there was a long silence. Mrs. Dragon had been getting on Mr. Dragon’s nerves lately because she made too much noise with her fork. He had repeatedly told her that it was bugging him and she politely corrected her behavior- but only for a bit and then she would forget. Tonight’s silent dinner was filled with more clanking and clinking of her fork than ever before. Mr. Dragon let out a sigh and bit into the pesto-covered villager on his plate.

A rumbling began to take over Mr. Dragon’s stomach. This was normal if the villager he was eating was still alive during consumption; but the pesto-covered one he had just swallowed had died hours ago and was cooked at 350 degrees by Mrs. Dragon’s fire breathe. The rumbling turned into a sizzle and Mr. Dragon pushed his plate away.

“What’s wrong,” said Mrs. Dragon.

“Something isn’t right,” said Mr. Dragon

“What do you mean?”

“Did you cook this at 350 degrees?”

“Of course.”

Mr. Dragon felt a stinging in his lower abdomen. He had felt this same pain once before and knew exactly what it was.

Mr. Dragon rarely called Mrs. Dragon by her first name so this was a serious situation.

“We don’t know it was a gluten-free villager for sure.”

“Well where did you kill him?”

“Outside of this cool little coffee shop that no one has ever heard of.”

The pesto-covered villager Mr. Dragon had just eaten was definitely gluten-free. Mr. Dragon said nothing because he knew it too. Without another word, Mr. Dragon picked up his plate, walked to the back of the cave, and put it in the sink. Then he went to the bedroom at the front of the cave passing Mrs. Dragon still sitting at the table. Mr. Dragon did not make eye contact. After taking 50mg of Benadryl, Mr. Dragon lay on the bed and stared at the ceiling. He tried to relax but found it difficult. From the other room he could still hear the clinking and clanking of Mrs. Dragon’s fork.